Violet Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone
by klsklskls
Summary: Violet Potter, Harry's twin, sent Harry to live with a forgotten relative on Lily's side, rescuing him from the abuse. But, what will happen when they see each other, after three years, on the train? What will their first year be like?
1. The Zoo

**Author's Note: This is your basic twin fic. I found that there were actually quite few of these, and thought I'd give a spin. Constructive criticism is welcome, just being rude is, well, rude. Thanks!**

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><p>The sky was dark, the moon gone, and the stars blotted out by the light pollution. The only light in the prim streets of Private Drive were the street lamps, and the beady eyes of a tabby cat, sitting stiffly on a brick wall. All of the inhabitants had soundly gone to sleep, ignorant of the historical events that had just happened, and scorning the weirdos that had been all over the city.<p>

With a soft pop, a man appeared on the street, apparently oblivious of the fact that everything from his half-mooned spectacles and twinkling eyes, to his long cloak was unwelcome there. His name was Albus soon, mysteriously, all sources of light disappeared, besides the stiff cat's eyes, and the old man's spectacles. He turned to the cat.

"Minerva, I should have known you would be here." The cat jumped down from the wall, transforming midair into a strict looking woman, with a tall pointed hat sitting on her head. Albus shook his head fondly as she stared penetratingly at him. Minerva had been sitting out there for a reason, and she was going to get what she wanted.

"Why aren't you rejoicing?" Albus questioned.

"Rejoicing! The idiots have been making such a struggle that even the muggles have noticed. Flocks of owls. Shooting stars. They've been flocking the streets, swapping gossip." It was obvious this is why she had been waiting out on the wall for the entire day. "They're saying that You-Know-Who has finally been defeated."

"It certainly seems so." Albus said, sadly. She gasped.

"They're also saying that James and Lily are… that they're dead. And," She rushed on, "That the twins are the ones who defeated him." Minerva looked at him, clearly hoping that he would deny it, saying it was colldaswop. But Albus merely nodded, the twinkle gone from his eyes. A tear escaped Minerva's eye.

"James and Lily!" She cried. "But how, Albus? How, after all of the most powerful wizards failed, did the twins succeed?"

He looked at her gloomily. "We will never, we may only guess. They were left with, actually, you will see..." He checked his pocket watch, which had many symbols, moons, planets, stars, letters, and numbers, but which obviously made sense to him, because he said, "In fact, they be here, momentarily."

"You can not mean… Albus you can't leave them here! These muggles are despicable. They have an atrocious son, and, and, Albus! Harry and Violet will be famous in our world! I wouldn't be surprised if this day was know, from now on as The Potter Twin Day! Every kid will want to be like them!"

"Exactly. Famous for something they can't even remember, something that happened before they either talk or walk. That could blow up anyone's ego. It's much better that they are raised here. Besides, I've written Petunia a letter that explains everything." Albus shrugged.

"Albus! You can't explain something like this in a let- What is that?" Minerva looked up at the sky, where a bright light was growing bigger.

"Hagrid. He's bringing the twins and is," He checked his odd watch again, and shrugged,"A little behind schedule, but otherwise, great!"

"You thought it was… wise to trust Hagrid with something as valuable as the twins?" Minerva's tone wasn't incredulous, just confused.

"My dear, I would trust Hagrid with my life." Albus looked in her eyes seriously.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," Minerva conceded, "Just that he _can_ be a little careless." She looked uneasy as the light grew and grew, until it became a giant motorcycle, which landed with a loud _THUD! _on the ground. A huge man with a wild brown beard climbed off of the vehicle, his arms cradling the tiny children.

"Everything went smoothly, I assume?" Albus questioned.

"Fine. I picked these two ou' of the- the ruined house, and Sirius le' me borrow the bike. Li'l Harry fell asleep as we flew over London." Hagrid handed the small children to Albus, one whose eyes were closed, and another whose deep violet eyes wide open. Suddenly, Hagrid howled, like a wounded dog.

"Shush!" Minerva hissed, "The muggles will hear you."

"Sorry," Hagrid spluttered, "Bu', it's jus', Lily and James!" He howled again.

"Yes, yes. Now, be quiet." Minerva moved over to look at the twins as Albus placed them on the doorstep. She gasped softly when she saw them. Carved into both of their foreheads was a deep lightning scar. She turned to Albus. "Will it ever heal?"

"Not likely, and even if I could do something, I would." He said, predicting her next question, "Scars come in handy. I happen to have under my knee that is a perfect map of London under…" He trailed off, under Minerva's withering gaze. "Well, everyone say their goodbyes." As the odd threesome left, the violet baby finally drifted off into the realm of sleep, not aware that she, and her brother would be soon woken up by the screams of their aunt.

And all around Britain, people were whispering in secret, "To the Potter twins, who defeated You-Know-Who!"

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><p>Eight years later, a woman showed up, begging for custody for Harry and Violet. Aunt Petunia shouted at her how she was chosen as her guardian, and how she she had no right to show in her house, after leaving so long ago. Neither saw the the two small children listening in. When eventually the woman was kicked out, and Aunt Petunia stormed upstairs, the girl, Violet, told her brother, in hushed tones to leave, and to go with the woman. She knew they wouldn't make it together, so she sent him off, by himself, to the woman, to a hopefully safer life, and braced herself for the beating she would get<p>

.

She didn't eat for a week.

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><p>A loud banging right next to my ear caused me to bolt straight up, slaming my forehead into the dented edge above my bed. My eyes adjusting to the darkness, I recognized the tiny closet. I had been having the most wonderful dream, with London soaring beneath me, and I was in this giant flying motorcycle.<p>

A nasally voice (I would never say that out loud, of course. I enjoy living.) shouted at me through the thin wall, as I rubbed my sore head, "Wake up! It's my precious Duddykins birthday, nothing can go wrong." Dudley's birthday. How could I have forgotten. I sighed.

"What did you say?" Aunt Petunia's voice scolded through the door.

I rolled my eyes. "Nothing!"

"That's what I thought." Loud, high-heeled footsteps clacked away from the small doorway as I rolled my eyes. Turning to my left, I grabbed the clothes that I had washed the day before, brushing aside a small spider. I tear up, remembering the mess of black hair that used to be there, the bright green eyes that used to look at me fearfully every time Aunt Petunia had screamed at him. _He's safe_, I comforted myself. _He can't be hurt there._ Wiping my unshed tears aside, I quickly got changed into the extra large puke green sweater, and the pants that hung off my waist, almost falling off, even with a belt. Dudley's old clothes. Running a brush through my raven hair, I mentally braced myself for the day. And with that, I climb out of the cupboard, just in time to get pushed right back in my my _lovely_ cousin. It was going to be a long day.

I climbed out, again, and walked to the kitchen/great room (They were connected.), and took the spatula from Aunt Pet (That's what I call her in my head, Petunia is such a mouthful.), where she was making flapjacks.

"Took you long enough!" She said, hitting me with the backside of her left hand. I winced. _Ow. _Her ring was pointy. She walked over to the couch, where Dudley was struggling to count he presents (37 is such a big number!). Snorting silently, I heard him start crying, well, fake crying. He's just a greedy lump of lard. One that hits hard. I remember Harry's many bruises, and feel my temper start to rise. _Not a good idea_. Taking deep breaths, repeating _he's safe now _in my head like a mantra, I calm myself, and tune back into the present day, just in time to hear that one horrible piece of conversation that would destroy the rest of my school year.

"-broke her leg, so she can't take the girl."

"What?"

"WWWAAAAAHHHHHH! I-It's no-o fa-air. She-e's go-onna ruin EVERYTHING!"

"Don't cry Duddykins. Mommy won't let that happen. Maybe she can stay home?"(My heart jumped at this. FOOD!)

"Alone? This TV is new, I can't leave her here with it. What about your friends, the… Williamson's?"

"Vacation. What about Marge?"

"Come on Petunia, you know she hates the girl." (The feeling is mutual.)

The doorbell rang, stopping the conversation, and the (fake) crying. And so, about an hour later, I found myself sitting squashed between Dudley and Piers, while Piers tried futilely to flirt with me, in the shiny new Volkswagen.

The day went splendidly, until it didn't. We visited the Mammal exhibit, and saw the big cats, then ate lunch, where I got my own meal, and when Dudley complained about how his Super Sundae didn't have enough ice cream, Uncle Vernon let me eat the old one. I was having a great day (Well, beside Piers trying to flirt with me,) until we reached the Reptiles exhibit. Dudley, Piers, and Uncle Vernon were banging on the glass in between them and a boa constrictor, trying to get it to move. Eventually they moved, and I, being me, decided to have a conversation with the constrictor, because, they can't understand, right?

"I'm sorry," I told it, which it responded with a look like _I get it all the time._ I smiled and asked, "Do you have a name?" It jabbed it's tail at a plaque on the wall. It said:

_**Ruby**_

_**Brazilian Boa Constrictor**_

"Oh," I said, intelligently, "Is it nice in Brazil?" Ruby looked at me like, _Seriously?_ and jabbed her tail at the sign again. Below, it read, in smaller print:

_**Bred in Captivity**_

"Oh." I said again. All of sudden, Dudley pushed my down, leaning against the glass to look at the now moving boa.

"Come on, guys! Look!" He shouted, as I saw red. I had been having such a good day. Piers ran to look, and I snapped. The glass vanished and the boys toppled into the habitat, reappearing once Ruby had slithered out.

"_Thankssss, amigo." _She hissed, sliding down the hallway, snapping at people's ankles. I stared blankly after her. She had talked. Or, I had understood her. All I knew, looking at Uncle Vernon's face as the boys pounded on the glass, was I was in trouble.


	2. The Letters

**Author Note: I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update. I'll try to do it as quickly as possible.**

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><p>When I got home, I was immediately sentenced to room, where I would stay, unless I was cooking, or working in some other way. The school became summer vacation, and I remained in my small room. Until July. 22nd, to be exact. That was when my ban was lifted. I still was working, but I was allowed to walk outdoors, and the door to the cupboard wasn't constantly locked. It went like this for a good two or three days, before I got in trouble again. Well, more like I was <em>given <em>trouble. This time, in the form of a letter. It was the bright early morning of July 25th, and the day was going fine/normal. Until…

Dudley had just gotten his Smeltings uniform, and was proudly wearing it around the house, when the postman dropped the mail in. Uncle Vernon, at the sound, lifted his extremely large head from the morning newspaper, which he was reading, at the breakfast table (I know! Rude!). I, of course, was cooking that morning's bacon.

"Dudley, get the mail." Uncle Vernon barked, reading the newspaper again.

"Make Violet get it!" Dudley whined, not wanting to lift his obscenely large bottom.

"Violet, get the mail." Uncle Vernon barked, not even looking up from his newspaper.

"Make Dudley get it." I said tiredly.

"Dudley, hit her with your Smelting stick!" Vernon retaliated, slightly proud. I danced out of the way, (I had enough bruises without another, and that stick _hurt._) and jogged out of the kitchen, to the front door, where the mail was lying on the welcome mat. Picking it up, I shuffled through it, looking for anything of importance, and that's what I found.

In crimson lettering on one of the envelopes, it read:

Violet Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Number 4 Privet Drive

It was a letter. To me. The first thought I had was _Who would send __me __a letter?_ My second thought was, _I wonder what it's about…_ Returning to the shiny clean kitchen, I scrutinized the envelope. On the front there was a wax seal, with an H pressed into it. I didn't even know those still existed. I sat down, and passed the rest of the mail to Uncle Vernon, where, it some part of my brain, I could hear him talking about it "...postcard, bill, oh! A letter from Marge!..." I was totally in my world, open the letter, inspecting the paper (parchment, I think. Weird.) I was yanked back into the world, however, by Dudley.

"Look!" He said, grabbing the letter from my hands, "Violet got a letter!" He waved it in the air. Uncle Vernon's head shot up so fast I thought he might have broken his neck. He took the letter from Dudley's pudgy hands.

"Who would send a letter to her…" He paled as he opened, and his voice turned shaky. "Petunia…" Aunt Pet came over, and turned green.

"I want to see it!" Dudley whined, for the first time being ignored, and not liking it.

"It's my letter!" I complained, just to say something. I was also ignored, but didn't really care.

"Vernon… They knew where she slept." Aunt Pet looked like she was going to puke, but Uncle Vernon pit his big boy panties on.

"We swore we would stamp it out of her, Petunia. I won't have one in the house." There was a note finality in his voice. He turned towards me, and rubbed his neck awkwardly, "Violet, don't you think you're getting too big for your cupboard. Why don't you moved to the empty room?" He grimaced as I stared at him. He kicked my shin. "Get moving, girl!"

I exited the kitchen, in a daze, crawling into the cupboard, grabbing my stuff and climbing up the stairs. I opened the door to Dudley's second bedroom, and stared blankly at the TV that Dudley had put his foot through when his favorite show had been canceled, the rifle he had bent by sitting on it, all of his broken toys. Yesterday, I would have given anything to be in this room, but now… Now I would rather be in my cupboard with that letter then up here without it.

The next day, Uncle Vernon made _Dudley_ get the mail. I think he was trying to be nice. But then Dudley cried out, "There's two more! _Violet Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, Number Four Privet Drive!"_ Uncle Vernon shot up, and grabbed them, ripping them to pieces in front of me.

It went like this for two more days, each day bringing more letters, and more drama (Uncle Vernon nailed the mail slot shut, the letters found their way in with the eggs), until Sunday. I was making pancakes, when Uncle Vernon decided to rub in the reason for my gloomy mood.

"Do you know what I like most about Sunday?" He said, eating a biscuit. "Do you? Do you? There's no mail on Sundays. Not one single blasted lett-" A envelope shot in through the chimney, hitting him promptly on the nose. It was followed by another letter, than another. I stood in shock for a few seconds then grabbed a letter, and ran to the stairs. If I got in the cupboard, no one would be able to reach me. I was petite and thin, none of my relatives could say that.

Uncle Vernon, however, realized what I was going to do, and tackled me to the floor, wrestling the letter from my hand. I grabbed another one, and started to run again, but he slapped me, and yanked the envelope away. Uncle Vernon grabbed my hair, envelopes still flying around, and pulled me out of the house, yelling, "We're leaving! I'm done with this-this-this.." The now-not-so-shiny Volkswagen pulled out of the driveway, with Aunt Pet, Dudley, and I, all shell shocked inside.

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><p>We stopped at a run down hotel, about three or four hours away. Uncle Vernon seemed triumphant, and Aunt Pet seemed frightened. We slept there, and in the morning we got a wake up call from the manager.<p>

"Good mornin'. Does one of you happe' to be a Viole' Potter? I go' abou' a hundre' of these dow' at the desk." The poor man was flustered and frowning. I moved forward to tell him that yes, there was, and I was her, but Uncle Vernon went down instead. We left the next morning.

The entire ride, Dudley complained. "I want a TV! Today is Monday, and the premiere of _SuperMan _is on!" His words eventually registered, and my eyes widened. If he was right, (and Dudley usually knew what day it was, for TV) then tomorrow was my birthday. Nothing was going to happen for me, but it's not everyday you turn eleven.

We drove for another three or four hours, until we were on the coast. Dudley was quiet, his voice from all of the one sided conversation. Uncle Vernon exited the car, and the three of us were silent, scared to talk and get yelled at to shut up. It was another ten minutes before Uncle Vernon came back.

"We got a place! It's perfect, and there's a storm tonight." Uncle Vernon seemed happy for the first time in almost a week. "This lovely gentlemen," he gestured to a scraggly man with missing teeth, who Aunt Pet wrinkled her nose at when he smiled., "Has been kind enough to offer us a ride." My eyes widened. Where in the world were we going?


	3. The Hut in The Storm

**Author Note: I was vacation, so I could write a lot, but now I'm busy again. I would like to quickly thank Justwatchthestars for reviewing. I hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I totally forgot this, sorry! So, I don't own Harry Potter, Ms. Rowling does.**

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><p>We followed the repulsive man along the littered shore, to a decaying dock, which had a rowboat, with peeling light blue paint, and cracked wood, that was gently bobbing in the water. It was in desperate need of a complete remodeling, and I wasn't quite sure how it was possible for it to float. Nevertheless, it fit all of us, barely, and the long package (Did I forget to mention the package? Uncle Vernon bought a long, thin package wrapped in brown paper a little while ago.) The sun had just touched the horizon, colors shattering the blue sky, as the man (<em>cough <em>it _cough_) rowed us of the dock. There's such thing as _engines _nowadays, people. Anyway, the wind was blowing my hair everywhere, (I like to wear it down) and I'm pretty sure everyone in the boat got a mouthful, including me. The "boat" was flying every other second, being pushed around by the dark, white capped waves. It would have pretty, if I hadn't been worried about not puking from seasickness.

"So!" Uncle Vernon tried to strike up conversation. I turned and glared at him. He paled slightly. "Ummm… How's everyone?" This question started a whole new bout of Dudley complaining, his voice taking a whining tone that meant _Be careful, I hit_. Sometimes, memories are left best unstirred.

"I want a TV! And a phone!" I want food, but does it look like I'm complaining? "I want food! I'm hungry!" Copier. Besides, you're fat enough, _pig_.

Looking out in front of us, all I could see was a barren rocky island, with a hut. Or, what used to be a hut. Now, it was more appropriate to call it a lean-to. Or maybe a piece of wood. I just hoped that we were staying somewhere, and that we would land sone. My stomach was definitely not feeling any _better._ I wasn't sure how, but it happened to be getting _worse_.

Sadly, however, we did land of the godforsaken island, the boat bottoming out before the bank because of the immense weight. There was this wrench scratching, and lots of yelling.

"It's your fault we're even here!"

"Petunia, it's the girl's fault! I had no choice!"

"I'm hungry! Why are we even here? And what so stinking bad about those letters?" (You said something intelligent, Dudley! I'm so proud of you!)

"We'll get you something to eat soon, Duddykins. And Vernon, you could have picked somewhere more public?"

"They would have found her."

"I'm tired! Can't we get off the boat? Why aren't we moving?" I stared at Dudley. For that matter, as did everyone else.

"Why isn't the blasted boat moving?!" Uncle Vernon screamed at the still-creepily-grinning old man, who just shrugged his scrawny shoulders.

"Too fat." He pointed a scraggly finger at Dudley, and then Uncle Vernon, whose face was rapidly turning a unique shade of purple. "Boat no move." I decided that I this man. He was smart and blunt. If only he was younger…

"How dare you!" Uncle Vernon spluttered, as Dudley stared at the man, wide-eyed. I guess he wasn't used to not being feared. "Move this boat now! I demand you to!"

The crazy man just shook his head. "Out, fatties. Me, move boat, you, out." He smiled even broader, getting crinkles in the corners of his eyes. Is anyone else getting the feeling that he knows exactly what's happening? That he's doing this on purpose?

Dudley finally realizing that someone had just called him fat, stood up, and lunged at the man. I sat there contentedly as Aunt Pet, and Uncle Vernon lunged to stop him from flipping the boat. I had accepted my fate of death by hypothermia, and was waiting for it to actually happen. I honestly seemed in slow motion. First, Dudley tripped over on of the boat's ribs, and soared headlong over the insane grinning man, and into the water. I pretty sure I laughed, which, if I wasn't going to die of Hypothermia, would be a death wish with in of itself. Then the Uncle Vernon's momentum flipped the boat, and sent us all flying into the chilling water after Dudley. Did I mention that the man was still creepily smiling? He was. And finally, I had to swim to shore, while the rest of my family walked on the tip toes. But, they still got to walk. I was unfairly short. It was unfair!

The island was small. It consisted mainly of rocks, pebbles, sand, gravel, and the miniscule wooden hut, which in of itself deserves a description. It was two stories high, and not architecturally sound. All that was left of the paint job was a speck on the bottom of a board, almost on the inside. The siding _was_ the outside wall, and was pretty much nonexistent, and rotting. The hut smelt of mouse… leftovers, and the wind whistled right through the building. Entering the building, it just got worse. And worse. I was going to die, right before my birthday. Not that anything special happens on my birthday, but you don't turn eleven everyday. There was a queen bed upstairs, which Uncle Vernon and Aunt Pet of course took, and one moldy couch downstairs, which Dudley got (I'm not quite sure how it held him… but even jerks can get miracles.). I got the floor, the moth eaten, thinnest, hole filled blanket, and a promise of death. I probably would fall asleep, and just not wake up, not painful, like I thought it would be. You see, I had accepted the fact that I would die, when I was eight. My first close-to-death experience. I just didn't think it would be this peaceful. I shiver as I look at the watch on Dudley's arm (It's waterproof.) and smiled. It's remarkable how, when you're dying, every good thing grows so much bigger, and becomes a beacon of hope. I might make it to my birthday. I might turn eleven. I turned and drew a cake in the dirt floor, writing 'Happy Birthday!' along the middle. I could think of many things to wish for, but I decided on the same one from last year. _I wish that Harry is happy and safe, and excited for his birthday. _I stared at the digital watch, counting down in my head. 10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… I blew the dust away. Happy birthday. I survived. A wide smile split my face. _Harry, you awake? _I sent the thought out, senile thoughts messing up my brain. I actually thought he would respond. I hadn't heard from in years, and I thought he would respond. My smile slipped, only to come back again. I'm eleven. This is something new. I haven't been eleven before, how does it feel? The letters weren't even on my mind, just a big number eleven. A bright spot. The wind was making me shiver harder as the raging storm pick up, water droplets splashing me through the cracks in the walls, giant waves hitting the shores, in the pitch black night. It was like a rhythm, of the thunder and the waves. Loud enough to keep me awake, when I just wanted to go to sleep.

Until… BOOM! The door came crashing down, sending dust everywhere. The silhouette of a giant of a man stood in the doorway, stooping to enter the main room, with the low-ceiling. Maybe he's my hero, I thought, believing I was hallucinating, chuckling at my joke, I saw Dudley sitting up, straight as a board, and heard Uncle Vernon, and Aunt Pet clambering down the stairs. I was still lucid, I decided, huddling into a ball. Sadly lucid.

"Sorry," the man apologized, as he placed the door back upright. "Couldn' get in." He looked awkward, obviously not liking the stares he was getting. Uncle Vernon pointed a rifle at him, probably what was in the package.

"Le-eave im-mmediatly!" Uncle Vernon said shakily, daunted by the humongous form looming in front of him.

"Like a big muggle like you, Dursley, is gonna stop me." The man snorted as he crossed the room in a few strides, grabbing the gun from Uncle Vernon's hands, and tying it in a knot. "I was sen' by Dumbledore to deliver Violet 'er lette'." He turned towards the shiver mass that was me, as I tried to remember what the letter was. I felt like it was probably important, if someone had been sent to deliver it. "Viole', there you are. Here's your lett- Violet? Violet, are you okay?" What did he say? I felt myself drifting in and out of consciousness. It was finally time. Goodbye world.


	4. Diagon Alley

**Author Note: Thank you Justwatchthestars! You're amazing! Thanks to my first follower, kaykay25, you're fantabulous! This is my longest chapter, 2000+ words. And, um, well, could someone tell me what a beta reader is? I'm sorta new. Anywho…**

**Disclaimer: I sadly don't own anything.**

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><p>I saw a soft yellow light, flickering and growing in the distance. It emitted warmth, and comfort. And, honestly, all I could think was <em>I'm in Heaven? Didn't see that coming. <em>I was pretty sure that… _not_ heaven's light would be harsher, but it looked weird. everywhere besides the lights was pitch black, and I couldn't get up, from my lying down position. I wanted to walk towards the light. I was still so cold, bone deep chilled. And oddly enough my eyes wanted to open. But, they _were_ open. Confusing, right?

Being me, I decided to keep my eyes closed. The light was so nice, so beautiful, I didn't want to lose the only kind thing in my life so far, besides Harry. The warmth kept growing, and the light kept getting bigger. It was sort of peaceful, lying (Although, I was stubbornly thinking i was standing) there, in a warm light. Well peaceful until someone decided to shake me, like big, jerking shakes. That brought me out of my reverie, into…

The real world. A reddish/brown bush of hair was tickling my face, as two humongous, calloused hands shook me. There was a roaring fire going, and one of the soft blankets on my shoulders. I was still in the hut, but not cold. In fact I Was warm. but, being shaken. I swatted the tangled mass of hair on my cheek.

"HUH!" A big thud was heard at the hands flew off my shoulders the man behind me fell on his back. Obviously, he didn't expect me to wake/ he didn't know I was awake. I set up, surveying the area. Aunt Pet, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley were huddled in a tight corner, terrified, and the man behind me was _huge._ Like ten feet huge, I realized as he shakily stood up, then turned to my relatives.

"You're lucky," he said firmly, "She's alive. If no', we would have had a _conversation."_ I got the feeling that it wouldn't be a fun conversation. He softened as he turned to me. "Happy Birthday, Violet. Are you okay?"

"Never been better!" I chirped. Innocent, I was going for innocent. "I'm sorry, but may I ask who you are? You already know me."

"Oh. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys at 'ogwarts. 'Course, you know all abou' 'ogwarts." He seemed slightly abashed at forgetting to introduce himself.

"Very sorry, but I'm afraid I don't." I schooled my features into a confused, but sincerely apologetic expression. opened his mouth, but Uncle Vernon got in the way, apparently coming over his fear for the man for a second.

"Stop right there! You will stop talking to my niece right now!" The only time Uncle Vernon called me his niece is when he played the family card. This was getting interesting. "Petunia and I, we swore we would stamp it out of her the day you left her on our doorstep! You will not tell her anything!"

Mr. Hagrid looked at Uncle Vernon for a few seconds, as if to say _You couldn't stop me if you tried_, before he caught one important detail. "Stamp it ou'? STAMP IT OU'! You grea' prune! Dursley, if I e'er find you, you touched her, I'll, I'll…" He seemed to calm down with the images of crushing Uncle Vernon. "You don' know abou' 'ogwarts, Violet? You never wonde' where your paren's learned it all? Never?"

Honestly, this just made me more confused. "Learn what?"

Uncle Vernon turned purple. "Stop! Stop! I forbid you!"

Mr. Hagrid eyes grew wide and full of fire as he turned to Uncle Vernon again. "YOU NEVER TOLD HER?! You never told… This makes it harder." He just seemed to blow up, and then deflate, a little more than he was before, getting smaller, sadder. He turned to me, "Dumbledore said it would be hard, difficult to reach you. I didn't think you didn't know anything." Woah. I thought that went a little far.

"I know Maths and stuff. English." I molded into a pouting face.

"Yeah," He waved it aside, "I mean abou' our world. Yer paren's world. Yer a witch, Violet." I flinched, visibly offended. "I mean, that came out wrong. You can do _magic, _Violet." Uncle Vernon stood there, frozen, like his worst nightmares were coming true. "Somethin' ever happened when you were angry? Or sad? Yer probably pre'tty powerful, too…" He paused, then searched in his pockets. "I almos' fergot to give you this." He puled out my letter, giving it to me. I stared, wide eyed at it, for a second forgetting my act, then slipped back in.

"For… for me? Thank you, Mr. Hagrid." I gingerly opened it as Mr. Hagrid blushed, staring at the inked words.

Dear Ms. Potter,

We are excited to announce that you have been accepted to Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please respond by owl.

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

You will need:

A wand

A size 2 pewter cauldron and stand

A black pointed hat

A set of robes

The letter went on and on, list weird things like "Knarkle Ears". I mean, what even is a 'knarkle'? There also were books, and books, and books, and books, and, well, you get the point. I looked at Mr. Hagrid, confused. He seemed happy to see my expression, and winked.

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><p>Mr. Hagrid had brought me to London. Honestly, I wasn't quite sure how. I had been staring at the letter the entire time, re-re-re-rereading it. I wasn't a freak. I was normal, in my own special way. It was amazing, like flying in the clouds. I was part of the crowds. I wasn't abnormal. I loved it. By the time I had gotten out of my stupor, I was in central London, walking by Mr. Hagrid. Non-magic people surround me, cutting a clear path around him.<p>

"How are we going to find this in London? I've never seen any stores for… wands, or knarkle ears." I sounded gently confused. I hadn't lost my part yet.

Mr. Hagrid chuckled. "You'll see, Viole'. You'll see." Inside I was frowning. I didn't like to be kept in the dark. I liked to know my surroundings. He pulled me into a run-down musty bar, where many people with weird clothes and hats sat, with a beverage, some like tea, and some like beer. It depended. The bartender was old and twig thin, but moved around easily, and agilely.

"The usual, Hagrid?" His voice was strong, and playful. I liked him almost immediately.

"Not today, Tom. I'm on Hogwarts business." Mr. Hagrid placed an oversized hand on my shoulder, almost causing my knees to buckle.

I swear, I'm not claustrophobic. I'm not scared of stampedes, or people, at all. But the enormous crowd of people that lined up to met me, and shake my hand was terrifying. It didn't show, of course. I was the epitome of polite. Innocent was a facade that I had had a lot of time to practice, and came naturally. They each gave me their names, and said it was so nice to 'see me again' or 'see me finally'. I must have met everyone there, before pulled me out the back, to a brick wall.

"See, Viole'? Yer _famous._" My heart sunk, and I almost broke into tears. Not normal. I shouldn't have even hoped. I wasn't normal, not at all.

"Why?" My voice stayed strong and soft, not betraying that I was dying inside. I'm a freak. "Why am I famous, Mr. Hagrid?"

"Ferst o' all, call me Hagrid. An' I tell you later." He looked uncomfortable, so I backed off. Freak. Abnormal. Different. I almost missed the wall moving too form an arch, and what tiles he tapped, the words were running through my head so fast. And then they stopped.

The world in front of me was amazing. I can't think of another word. Colorful, busy, magical. Amazing. Snippets of conversations flew around like flies.

"Firebolt… Fastest broom…"

"So expensive… Hurry up!"

"I want…"

People in tall pointed hats were everywhere, the word muggle was thrown around so many times, I lost count. Amazing. I loved it here. I felt normal, not like a celebrity. But I was. And, that didn't diminish the pure, utter happiness I felt. This is _me_. I could feel it. I inhaled deeply through my nose, the first real smile, well more like grin, breaking my face. Home. This is what home feels like, joy. My masked slipped, letting myself shine through.

"Oh, can we go here, Hagrid? No, here, first! Wait! Pretty! Oh, look at this! What about here?" I grabbed Hagrid's giant hand, dragging him all around, before realizing one _small _detail. I whipped around, and Hagrid almost ran into me. "I don't have any money Hagrid! The Dursley's will never give me any!" I was going to go back. Back to them. I started to deflate.

"You don't think yer paren's lef' you wif nothin'? Ferst stop, Gringotts. The wizard bank. Safest place there is, besides 'ogwarts, o' course." He pointed, as I brightened again, excited. Not waking with more bruises. Not being kicked for passing out, from being thrown to the wall.

"Let's go!" I yelled, getting amused glances as I pulled the giant across the square, to a large, white, marble building, with 'Gringotts' in huge gold letters on the top. I ran through the looming doors, into the domed hall. Little creatures stood at desks, sealing letters, or writing thingys. They were slightly frightening.

"What are they?" I asked Hagrid softly, my eyes wide, taking in every detail. The elegant glass droplet chandelier above my head, the black speckled white tile beneath my feet. Loving the serenity of this place, just as much as I loved the busyness outside.

"Goblins." Hagrid answered, voice low. "Devilish creatures. Never make a deal with one. They'll find a way out of it."

I smiled, as we walked up to a desk, a gentle smile. Hagrid, cleared his throat, and the goblin slowly up.

His face was a pasty white, his teeth sharp and small, and his voice grating. "Yes?"

"Viole' 'ere would like to enter her vaul'." Hagrid seemed uncomfortable with tiny creature, shifting back and forth, from foot to foot.

"Does… Violet, have her key?" The goblin peered over the light oak desk at me, sneering.

"Oh." The friendly giant turned red, and started rumaging through his pockets. "Got the little bugger 'ere somewhere…" He mumbled, placing an assortment of objects on the counter, stuff like huge dog treats, and open sausages, eventually taking out a miniscule key, and handing it to the goblin. " 'ere it is. Oh, and this is from Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid handed the creature (his name plate read Biteclaw) a crumpled letter. "it's abou' you-know-what, in vaul' you-know-which."

Biteclaw raised an eyebrow, before plucking the letter out of Hagrid's hand. He sliced it open with a _long _fingernail, and glanced it over quickly, as I stood there shifting constantly. I was getting a little antsy.

"Griphook!" I jumped, as Biteclaw\yelled for the goblin. He handed Griphook the key, and turned back to his working. Very kind of him, don't you think? The service was admirable.

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><p>The way to get to the vaults was a cold ron cart with a feeble lap bar. It would have completed the day if a recording had come on and said "Please keep all hands and legs inside the vehicle. Do not exit until the vehicle had completely stopped," but it didn't. I still, however, had my hands up, and was screaming the entire time. While I thought the ride was <em>extremely <em>fun, Hagrid looked like he was trying to keep down his lunch.

The cart stopped short in front of a door, with an arch of stalactites surrounding it. It didn't look like the most welcoming place, but if it kept my way into Hogwarts (Money), I would accept it.

"Lamp please." Griphook climbed out of the cart as Hagrid handed him the lamp, and I was right after him. Walking to the door, he entered the key to a decreet slot, and pushed the door open.

Piles. Mounds. Hills. Mountains. Of gold, bronze, and silver. I turned to Hagrid.

"This is mine?" Disbelief was clear in my voice.

"All yers." He filled up a bag with coins. "17 silver Sickles to a gold Galleon, and 29 bronze Knuts to a Sickle. It's easy enough." He handed me the bag, and walked out. "Can we go slower this time?"

"Only one speed."

This time, the ride was more rough. More turns, hills, among other things. But finally, we reached the second vault. Griphook walked over, and traced his fingernail (Again, really long) down the door. Clicking was audible from the other side of the door.

"What happens if someone who doesn't work at Gringotts does that?" I asked, sort of scared for the answer.

"They get pulled in." Griphook looked at me, as Hagrid entered the nearly empty vault.

"How often do you check it?" I'm not quite sure why I asked that question, I definitely didn't want to know.

"Once every 10 years." He replied with a sneer. I gulped and looked up, just in time to see Hagrid put a small grubby package in his coat, emptying the vault completely. That secure of protection, for one package? Must be an antique, that's sentimental _really _important to an old person.

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><p>The first stop we visited was <em>Madam Malkin's Robes<em>, a store full of all sorts of fabrics and clothes. In front of a mirror (that was TALKING! Gotta love magic), was a bleach blond, thin, very thin boy, whose robes were being pinned by a frantic lady. Beside him, was another stool, where I moved to sit in, as Hagrid walked away. He couldn't fit.

Sitting on the wobbly stool, the witch (the magic type) turned to me.

"Just a second, dear. Let me finish." She then promptly turned back to her work, as the boy turned around, noticing there was some one else in the store as well.

"First year at Hogwarts?" His voice was sharp, and precise. In my humble opinion, he sounded like a prick.

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><p><strong>Sorry it took so long! Please review!<strong>


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